


Check

by Hiate48 (Arielphf)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 08:26:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arielphf/pseuds/Hiate48
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it becomes clear that the secrets Berthold Hawkeye kept were not taken to the grave with him, certain powerful elements in the Amestrian military will not take ‘no’ for an answer.  If Roy Mustang won’t come to heel, he’ll have to die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Check

**Author's Note:**

> _**Author’s Note:** In order for me to be able to write this story and have it match the picture I was assigned, I had to juggle the timeline a bit and make some assumptions that aren’t supported in Brotherhood canon – namely that Roy Mustang is graduated from the military academy and in possession of the knowledge of flame alchemy before Trisha dies. In the series, as far as I can tell, Trisha dies before Berthold does, so there is no way for this picture, which clearly shows Roy in possession of the secrets of flame alchemy (his gloves) while Trisha is living. So, for the sake of this story at least, please pretend that Berthold Hawkeye dies in 1904 and Trisha in 1905. That seemed the easiest way to fudge this obvious paradox. All other events should follow the Brotherhood/Manga timeline. Thanks for your tolerance._

 

 

_Central City, Amestris,  October  1897_

 

“General?”

Brigadier General Lee Burton looked up from his paperwork as his subordinate spoke.  The younger man came to a halt a meter and a half from the general’s desk and saluted smartly, but Burton could almost smell the nervous sweat on him.  The paper in the man’s hand was crimped and smudged from being held in a tight, fidgety grip.

“Yes?”

Again a salute, though this time the man - Corporal Enfield, Burton recalled - seemed to remember  his purpose for being there and held forth the letter.

“You ordered any new developments in the Berthold Hawkeye’s case be brought to your attention, Sir.” 

The general motioned his ensign forward and took the letter from him.  “Yes?” he asked as he slowly opened the paper.  Though the information was in his hand, Burton expected a verbal report as well.  All his subordinates knew the protocol, though few would have dared suggest it was because the general abhorred his growing need for reading glasses. 

“Our operatives in Madsen report that Mr. Hawkeye has taken on an apprentice, sir.  A young boy of about 12.  We observed him being picked up at the train station by Mr. Hawkeye’s daughter, but we haven’t seen any parents nor have we been able to identify the child.  He’s been seen around the property doing chores, as well as reading and being instructed in what looks like basic alchemy by Mr. Hawkeye.” 

Burton looked up then and his steely eyes narrowed.  “Alchemy?”  He pinned the corporal with his gaze until the man squirmed.  “They’re sure?”

Enfield gulped and nodded.  “O..our alchemist confirms it.  Basic alchemical training books and forms.  Nothing that could be identified as fire alchemy.”  The corporal swallowed again.  “He’s on what our man assures us is a normal training schedule – nothing out of the ordinary.”

Burton’s expression grew harder.  “What about wireless?  Have we managed to get a bug installed in the Hawkeye home yet?”

“No sir – Mr. Hawkeye rarely leaves the home and the only ones we have managed to put in place are found and destroyed almost immediately.”  The ensign’s tenseness was palpable; it gave the general quiet satisfaction to see how much his men feared him. 

“Very well,” he said, folding the paper and tucking into his uniform’s breast pocket.  “Tell the lieutenant at the desk to get me General Andrews.  You are dismissed.” 

The ensign’s relief was palpable too.

 

 

* * *

 

_Halimar, a small town in the southwest of the Central Area, Amestris, Early October, 1897_

 

“Food’s ready.  Come if you’re hungry.”

Roy Mustang looked up from his sweeping and nodded to the girl.  “Should I finish first, or just come now?” he asked.  Riza Hawkeye shrugged but didn’t wait for him to respond before turning and leaving as quietly as she’d appeared.  Roy contemplated a minute.  His brief time as Master Hawkeye’s apprentice suggested if he didn’t come immediately, they wouldn’t wait for him.  He set his broom against the wall and followed after the girl to the dining room. 

The master and his daughter were already seated.  Roy made his way to the chair opposite Riza and took an appreciate whiff of the covered plates in front of him.  His master’s daughter certainly could cook; that was one of the benefits of his new situation. 

“Rabbit?” Berthold Hawkeye asked.  Riza nodded and took a leg from the platter for herself.  She was an excellent shot, and hunted for the family as well.  That fact impressed Roy but also told him that the Hawkeye’s finances weren’t what might have been assumed from the size of their home.  It had become clear early on that he’d been accepted into this apprenticeship more from economic necessity than any blinding skill that Mustang himself possessed. 

“There are deer in Benson’s Hollow behind the mill.  Take Roy up there later this week and get us some venison.”  There was no emotion in the master’s voice; no pride for his daughter’s providing the meal, nor criticism in his request for venison next time – there was just… nothing.  Roy paused in the act of retrieving a chunk of meat for his plate and flicked a look to his master’s daughter.  Her expression was as unreadable as her father’s but she nodded again.  Roy looked back to his new master thoughtfully.  He had assumed it was him, that something about Roy himself irritated the man and made his new master taciturn and callous, but perhaps Berthold Hawkeye was stingy that way with everyone. 

“Roy?”  His master said without looking up.  “There are some documents I need to fill out for the council.  Something about parental release for a minor for your apprenticeship.  Your aunt assured me she was your legal guardian but they need proof of that.” 

“Yes,” Roy answered quickly.  Madam Christmas had anticipated this problem and had prepared him.  “I’ve got papers that show I’m legally her ward.  I can give them to you after supper.  She’s not really my aunt, but she’s raised me since my mother died.”

Riza looked up at him then, her fork poised over her rice.  Roy knew her mother had also recently died, that much he had been told, but the tragedy had affected the Hawkeyes oddly.  Riza wasn’t so much in mourning as guarded about the subject and from Master Hawkeye, Roy felt despair and a dark hopelessness that seemed to pervade the house. 

“So your mother was one of her ‘employees’?”  Master Hawkeye’s tone didn’t hold the contempt with which some people asked that question.  Roy felt strangely comforted.  Being born the son of an exotic prostitute had made life a challenge, but Roy had no patience for those who would judge him for the circumstances of his birth. 

“Yes,” the boy answered.  He sat straighter in his chair and met his master’s eyes evenly. “That means you can be assured my grades and recommendations were earned honestly, from merit.”  And not, as some of his classmates in the city, been given as favors to the child’s relations.  

“I judge people on what they do, not what they’ve done.  Or where they came from.”  The master dismissed the boy’s defensiveness with a tired shake.  “As if my judgment mattered for anything.  I’ve already agreed to teach you to become an alchemist, boy, now it’s up to you to learn.”

“Oh, O.K., um…,” Roy stumbled, unsure how to respond.  “Yes, sir,” he said after a moment, and then frowned and looked to the girl opposite him for guidance.  She had returned to her meal.  His upbringing didn’t give him a real understanding of what normal Amestrian family life was supposed to be like, but even he knew the Hawkeye household was weird.  It was as if the master didn’t care about anything; his student, his house or even his daughter.  He seemed dead inside, as if the death of his wife had also killed Berthold Hawkeye.  The thought made Roy angry. 

His own mother had died too, when he was so young he almost didn’t remember her, but no one moped like this over her.  And the master still had his daughter at least.  When not around her father, Riza was kind of fun to be with.  Outside of the melancholy house, she had spunk and a surprisingly wicked sense of humor, but her father’s disinterest seemed to drain the life out of her.  He wasn’t cruel or unreasonable, but the only time there was any light in the master’s eyes was when he was teaching alchemy.  The rest of the time he seemed disinterested – or maybe distracted was more accurate – as if he didn’t care about anything else. 

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to suggest…”  Roy put down his fork.  “I’m still getting used to this, sir.  You’re really well respected and I’m lucky you took me.  I am sure I will learn a lot from you, but, I can’t help but think…”

Hawkeye looked up, his wan features sharpening as he focused on the boy.  Roy swallowed.

“What?” the older man asked.

“I…It’s just that I am unsure of my.. my…position.  I can’t help feeling that I’m… that you don’t really want me here.  I thought at first it was because of… where I’m from, but now…  Maybe it’s that you don’t see any potential in me?  Is that why…? 

“Calm down, boy.”  Hawkeye sighed.  He put his own fork down and rested his head in his hands.  “It’s a bad time for us, Roy.  I’m dealing with… a lot of things.”  The master drew a deep breath and sat up again.  “You’ve talent enough.  You’ll be a great alchemist one day, if you continue with it.  The problem is not you.”  The man’s hard expression softened.  It was the first time Roy had seen is master look so kindly.  “Maybe I shouldn’t have taken on an apprentice right now,” said Hawkeye.  “But teaching is one of the few paths left to me.”  He was silent for a long time while the food cooled on all their plates.  “You are wanted here, Roy.  Or rather perhaps ‘needed’ is more accurate.”  The man let out another long breath and hesitantly picked up his fork again.

Roy followed his master’s lead and finished his meal, but he felt even more confused than before.  Needed?  The master obviously needed the income, a problem practicing alchemists rarely had.  They could always find work because people always needed something fixed or changed.  Perhaps he was needed for something more unsavory?  His upbringing had hardly been innocent and he knew about the fancies of some older men, but he’d never gotten that kind of feeling from the Master.  His studies with Hawkeye consumed the day and chores and sleeping the night, and the only subject that the man had ever addressed had been alchemy. 

“Are you finished?”  Riza had piled up her empty dishes and was collecting up the serving plates.  It was his job to wash the dinnerware after she had put away the leftover food. 

“Yeah,” Roy replied, slipping off his chair and clearing his place.  Master Hawkeye got up without a word, leaving the work to the children, and disappeared down the hall to his study.  In the kitchen, Roy started to fill the sink with hot water as Riza pulled down containers to put the remaining hunks of rabbit meat into.  It would be part of their cold lunches tomorrow.

“Just what am I needed for?” the boy asked breaking the silence that had become less oppressive in the absence of the master.  “I don’t get it.  What the heck is going on here that I can possibly fix?”

Riza started as if lost in her own thoughts.  She glanced at him and then looked down the hall as if to check that her father was not within earshot.  “I guess I should tell you.”  She carefully pulled the pocket door to the hallway closed.  “I don’t know everything,” she began hesitantly, “but you deserve a better answer than you got.”  It was the first time Roy had heard anything approaching criticism of her father coming from the girl.  “We’re being watched,” she whispered carefully.  Roy looked quickly to the door Riza had just closed.  “No, not by my father,” she jerked her head towards the kitchen window.  “They’re outside.  Down the lane and they come into the yard sometimes.  I think it’s the military.  At least, they’re the ones who’ve been trying to get my father to work for them, or at least share his research but he won’t do it.”

Roy almost let the hot water overflow the sink.  “The military?”  He was quite aware of his master’s contempt of the state alchemist program.  He considered those alchemist who took military commissions as traitors – and worse.  “What?  What kind of research is he doing?”

Riza shrugged.  “I never had a talent for it.  Even though my father is a well-respected alchemist, I’ve never really paid much attention to it.  Sorry.”  She didn’t sound sorry; she sounded dismissive – as if rejecting the one thing that still captured her father’s attention.  “Although,” she continued.  “I remember when I was little; my father said he’d discovered a new kind of alchemy formula or something.  He was really happy about it.  Well, he was a lot happier back then, when mom was…”  A shadow crossed the girl’s face.  “I was really young, but I remember the military coming to our house.  They were nice, even brought me presents, but that didn’t last.  The minute my father told them no, that he would never join their program, they stopped being so friendly.  Dad stood up to them though – he wasn’t afraid of them.  Once I heard him shouting at this general who came by and afterwards he said he’d forbid them from ever coming back.  And they didn’t – at least they didn’t come to the house anymore.  But Mom and I would see them when we left to go anywhere.  It made her mad that they were watching us, following us around, and even though Dad wasn’t afraid, I think she was scared.  She told me she was going to ask some relative of hers in the military to get them to leave us alone but I don’t know if she ever got to.  That was the day…”  The girl’s voice dropped and the shadow returned.  “I didn’t go with her on that day…” 

“I’m sorry,” Roy said softly.  “I’m really sorry to make you bring all this up, but I think it’s important to know.  Thanks.”  Roy frowned.  “Are they still watching you now?” 

Riza nodded.  “Ever since you arrived, they’ve really stepped up!”  She grinned wickedly.  “They think they’re so clever, that I haven’t noticed the guys who are almost constantly at the end of the lane, but I see them.  They’re really interested in you!  My friend Beth says there’s also some sort of camp up on Ross Hill too – you can see our whole place from up there.  My guess is they think you’ll get the secrets of my father’s alchemy from him when they couldn’t.”

Roy felt a cold lump form in his belly.  What kind of a situation had he stepped into?  And why had no one warned him or his guardian about it beforehand?  “Would he do that?”

“Please!  How many alchemists do you know?  They’re all pretty secretive and Dad’s the most tightlipped of the bunch.  I don’t really know if he’s planning on sharing his special alchemy with you at some point, but if he won’t give it to the military, I don’t think he’ll give it to a kid.”  Riza shoved the containers she’d been filling into the icebox. 

“I’m twelve,” Roy protested.  “That’s not really a kid.”

Riza rolled her eyes.  “That’s besides the point.  In any case, I don’t think he’s done with his formula or whatever it is anyway.  That’s why they don’t dare cross him, ‘cause he’s the only one that knows his secrets.  But, when he does finish his work and starts using his new alchemy for the good of the people, things will be different around here.  He’ll get even more famous and we’ll get lots of money and get all our stuff back and have the house as nice as when mom was alive.  You’ll see.”

Roy turned to the sink and pulled the dishes under the soapy water.  “A new kind of alchemy?” he asked.  “What kind, I wonder?”

“I don’t think he’s finished with it yet,” Riza shrugged again.  “Or at least I haven’t seen him practicing anything different from the alchemy he’s always done.  But I’m no expert.  Has he shown you anything out of the ordinary?”

“Not that I’d know.  I’ve just been learning chemistry, that’s all, though I’d have no idea if he was teaching me something out of the ordinary.  This is all new to me, but it’s really interesting all the same.  He’s got me learning organic compounds and their alchemical make up and effects.  He made this liquid stuff the other day that turned hard as a rock when he stopped transmuting it – it was cool!”

Riza’s dismissive attitude returned as if a switch had been turned.  It wasn’t that she was dismissive of alchemy, she actively resented it.  Roy bit back his enthusiasm. 

“That’s nice,” she said, sounding as if it was anything but.  “About tomorrow, can you handle a gun?”

“Um…”

“I take that as a no.”  This time her tone was clearly superior.  “That’s alright.  You can drive the deer for me.  I’ll get you up before first light tomorrow so you had better get sleep tonight.  Wear something you don’t mind getting ripped up; there are brambles in that hollow that you’ll have to get through to chase deer down to me.  I’ll be at the bottom of it waiting to shoot one.”

“Uh…”

Riza was clearly enjoying his discomfort.  He’d spent his entire life in a city – her words might as well have been in a foreign language for all he understood her. 

“Oh, yeah – and make sure what you do wear is brightly colored – I wouldn’t want to accidentally shoot you, ya know.”  She gave him a clap on the back and slid the door open again.  “See you!”

What had he gotten himself into indeed?

 

 

* * *

 

_Central City, Central Area, Amestris, Mid October, 1897_

 

“What’s up, Lee?” 

The Brigadier General’s office was never brightly lit, as if the man had something to hide, but Hyner Andrews knew his way around all the offices at Central.  He was clever and quick and his loyalty could be bought, as long as the price was right.  He was the brass’s man when it came to ‘getting things done’ and he was privy to enough dirt on all the major players that no one dared oppose him.  It also helped that he seemed content to serve the top commanders rather than become one of them.

“It’s Hawkeye.  He’s taken on an apprentice.”

Andrews smiled.  “Has he?”  He took a sip of the coffee Burton’s attractive lieutenant had poured him and waited till the woman had shut the door softly behind her before continuing.  “Has there been any evidence of him continuing his research?”

Burton slid the report he’d been given across the desk.  “Not that we’ve observed.  He’s a broken man these days.  Misfortune has a way of beating down even the most defiant firebrand.  With the collapse of his fortune and the death of his wife, he’s just a shell of his former self.  All he has left is that daughter of his.”

“Are there any plans for her?”

Burton shook his head.

“She’s more use to us alive, considering who her grandfather is.  And if anything were to happen to her, Hawkeye would no longer have anything to lose.  We’ve been careful enough so far that there is no proof of our involvement in his troubles, but he understood the warning of his wife’s ‘accident’ and stopped his experiments.  At least to all outward appearance, he’s no longer working on fire alchemy.  He may still develop it in secret, but he’s become very cautious.”

“Do you think he’s taken on this apprentice to train his own ultimate weapon?”

“Doubtful.  A twelve year old boy?  If he were looking to make a weapon, he’d gain the cooperation of an already trained alchemist who’d have some chance against us.  He knows the potential of fire alchemy as well as we do.  He’s the one who first warned of it.  No, I have studied Berthold Hawkeye a long time.  He’ll never complete his research.  His greatest fear has always been that Amestris will get a hold of it.  Considering our military history, would you doubt we would use it?  There is no one he trusts enough to give them access to that power.  He knows we’re watching him very closely and sooner or later, we would get a hold of it, too.”  Burton blew on his own coffee, though it was barely steaming any longer.  “Hawkeye’s no fool.  As long as it’s still a potential weapon, he is valuable, but the minute he finishes that research….”  The general smiled coldly.   

 

 

* * *

 

_Halimar, Spring of 1900_

 

“Mind if I sit here?”

Roy Mustang looked up from his drink at the young man who seated himself at the counter beside him.  This soda shop was a favorite haunt of students on their way home from classes but the smartly dressed professional looked decidedly out of place here. 

“Suit yourself.”  He looked the man over carefully.  In the three years of his apprenticeship, the only people he’d seem coming to Halimar were those looking to speak with his master.  Most of them were other alchemists doing research or people who needed some particular chemical that modern science wasn’t able to craft.  Lately, even most of those visitors went away unsatisfied.  This guy didn’t look like a researcher; he seemed to Roy to be more the kind of polished customer who used to show up at his aunt’s brothel.

The man called for a soda from the girl behind the counter.  “I would have thought a young fellow like you would still be in school at this hour.”

Roy shrugged.  “My last class on Tuesdays is a study hall.  If you finish all your work, they let you leave.  I’m just waiting for my friend to get out so we can walk home.”  He took a sip of his drink; the owner gave him sparkling water for free, so it had become Roy’s beverage of choice. 

“A girlfriend?” the man smiled.

Roy nearly choked while swallowing.  “No,” he scowled and then under his breath muttered, “Spend all day in school and all night learning alchemy, when would I have time for a girlfriend?” 

“Oh, so you’re studying to be an alchemist?  What luck!  I’m in town looking for someone who’s also in training to be an alchemist, maybe you know him?  He’s supposed to be this real prodigy.”  The man reached into his coat and pulled out a small black book.  “He’s an apprentice about your age.”  He turned several pages of the book until he found what he was looking for.  “Yes!  Here it is – Roy Mustang, aged 15, apprenticed to Berthold Hawkeye, an alchemist specializing in combustion chemicals.”  He peered over the book at the boy.  “Any idea where I can find him?”

The part about ‘real prodigy’ echoed in Roy's ears.  “Um,” he said, “That’s me!”

The man grinned brightly.  “Wow!  Imagine my luck, I’ve run into you without even trying!”  He held out his hand.  “The name’s Andrews, Hyner Andrews, and it’s a real pleasure to meet you, Mr. Mustang.”

“Seriously?  You were looking for me?”  Roy still couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  His master had never even hinted that his abilities even approached the level of prodigy.  “What for?”

“Well!” Andrews snapped the book closed and leaned conspiratorially towards him.  “I’d like to recruit you, if possible.”  He smiled to reveal a dazzling array of perfect teeth.  “I work in admissions at Triboro Academy in Central City.  We’re trying to recruit potential alchemists into our officer training school.  There’s a lot of support in the government to begin training state alchemists outside of the apprenticeship system, in a formal university setting where they can get access to the books and research materials they need.  Lately there have been a lot of sub-par practitioners coming out of that system.  It seems the good alchemists aren’t teaching and the ones who are… well, I think it’s fair to say they are good arguments for some kind of certification program.”  He winked at Roy conspiratorially.  “My superiors at Triboro thought, since alchemists are such a precious resource, it would be worth investing in an alchemy program – and in some exemplary students to enroll in it.”

Roy took a moment to think.  “Triboro is a military school, isn’t it?”  He frowned.  “My master wouldn’t like that.  He has no interest in working for the military and I doubt he’d condone me going to one of their schools.”

The man laughed heartily, a diamond stud at his cravat catching Roy’s eye.  “Yes, that old saw ‘Alchemist, be thou for the people’, right?  Quite.”  He smiled with gentle tolerance.  “Your master’s a wise man and he’s not the only alchemist who’s devoted to a life of peace.  Not to worry, if we’d kept that requirement, we’d have attracted very few students.  Alchemists accepted into the school would not be required to do military service.  You would have to do a comparable term in public works, diplomacy or other branch to the benefit of Amestris, but there’s no military commitment for this recruitment drive.”  His smile grew broader.  “There are many ways in which an alchemist may service his country that don’t involve a battlefield.”  The man shifted as his drink arrived and held out his hand for Roy to shake.  “I’d appreciate it if you let me talk about the program with you, Mr Mustang.  We’ve got a generous scholarship program, top notch facilities, libraries, and laboratories; anything an aspiring alchemist could possibly want to further his education.  I would really like it if you would take my card.”  He held out a crisp, white piece of paper with fine, elegant writing printed on it.  “I also have a package I’d like to give you on all the details; programs, an application, compensation rates, course of study, and the types of commitment that would be expected of you upon graduation.  And I have a small token of appreciation for your consideration, just so you know we’re sincere about our interest in you.” 

Roy took the card mutely.  Andrews reached into his pocket and retrieved a wallet from which he pulled several large bills of Amestrian currency.  He gestured for the clerk to include Roy’s drink on his bill and handed the money over. 

Roy’s eyes narrowed.  This sounded way too good to be true.  A prodigy?  A prodigy!  He noted Andrews' uncallused hands, his expensive haircut and fashionable coat – the man looked nothing like the miltary folks Roy had met, but Roy could see him as an academic.  Master Hawkeye had drilled into him that the military was not to be trusted, that the whole Amestrian government was corrupt and likely behind the family’s misfortunes.  Though Roy knew better than to argue, he’d always considered such talk as a little paranoid.  In the beginning of his apprenticeship, there were a few instances that seemed as if someone was watching the Hawkeye home; cigarette butts in the driveway, campsites on the hill overlooking the house, but as time went on and nothing happened, Roy had dismissed such signs as meaningless.  Hawkeye’s suspicions he judged to be an expression of the old man’s eccentricity.  But… a prodigy?  He couldn’t even imagine his master offering such an endorsement – to anyone.  That fact alone made him suspect Andrews’ offer was just a little too good to be true. 

“Are you an alchemist?” the boy asked.

“I’m not,” Andrews answered, a touch of sadness in his voice.  “I’d not been given such gifts, though I work towards the glory of Amestris as I can.”  He downed his drink in one gulp, forgoing the straw.  “My position allows me the privilege of working with alchemists from all over the nation so I know and respect the work they do.  That’s why I’m so keen on getting the best students I can into the school.”  He leaned towards Roy.  “My vehicle is outside.  Would you like to come with me or should I bring the application materials in here?  I’m very eager to discuss your prospects.”

Roy hesitated.  “My master really wouldn’t...” he began carefully and then frowned.  Did he even know the quality of the education he was getting?  His master was a genius; that was clear, but what advantage had that genius afforded him?  Moreover, in the years since he’d begun his apprenticeship, had his master made any progress on his vaunted research?  None that Roy had seen.  He didn’t even seem to be working on it anymore.  Even Riza rarely spoke about it, as if the project hadn’t lived up to expectation.  Suddenly, the prospect of spending several more years in the dismal little town made him uneasy.  “Hmmm.”

“It’s not your master’s decision, is it, Mr. Mustang?  This is your future we’re talking about.  You need to take some time to think about what’s the best course of action for you, not how your master will feel about it.”  The man smiled.  “I’m staying at that little bed and breakfast at the eastern edge of the village so I’ll be around for a few days.  “You’re a talented student, by all the accounts I’ve seen, and the recruitment board feels you would be an asset to the school.”  He downed the last of his drink and stepped away from the bar, dropping a bill large enough to have paid for several drinks as a tip.  “Please at least take the gift – there’s no obligation.  Come on.”

His car was as sleek and expensive as everything else about Andrews.  Roy clamped down on an impulse to run an appreciative hand over the sportscar’s sinuous curves.  It had to be the newest and fanciest vehicle he had ever seen in his life.

“Here.”  The car’s boot closed with a muffled thump that spoke of solid and detailed engineering.  Andrews came up holding a very elegant box.  “For considering the Academy.  Just a token, but I hope you think of your future when you use it.”

The box had a bit of heft to it.  Roy pulled it open to see a knife and scabbard nestled in blue velvet niches in the bottom.  The blade was about 8 inches long and gleamed with ripples like flowing satin along its length.  The scabbard was finely crafted birdseye maple with ebony inlay of the Amestrian crest at the top. 

“Whoa...”

“There’s a harness for it,” Andrews smiled.  “You can rig it to be worn at your belt or in your boot, or even under your armpit for stealth.”  He took a smaller package from the vehicle’s back seat.  “Please consider this a reflection of the respect Amestris feels for your hard work and prowess.  The country values its alchemists, whether they work with the government or independently, and we want to insure that they all have the resources and compensation they deserve.”  Roy examined the knife hungrily, turning it over and running his hands over the smooth handle as if looking for a flaw, or the catch. 

“What do I have to do to keep this?” the boy asked at last.

“It’s a gift,” Andrews laughed.  “You don’t ‘have’ to do anything for it.  Just consider what your future might be if you could continue your education in a facility that has the resources your aptitude deserves.  Traditionally an alchemy student trains with a master who specializes in their chosen course of study.  Triboro will offer students the expertise of several master alchemists from widely divergent backgrounds.  The variety of viewpoints will give students more depth of understanding than any single master could hope to.  As well as acclaimed staff, we’ve got an excellent curriculum in alchemical theory, chemistry and physics, which you’d take as regular high school courses.  That means,” he nodded meaningfully, “you won’t have to take regular school during the day and alchemy at night.  You might even find time for a social life, eh, Mr. Mustang.”

Despite himself, Roy grinned at that.  “You make it sound really good, but I’d have to speak to my master.  It wouldn’t be right to make a decision like that without talking to him first.” 

“Of course not.  I understand.”

“Roy!” 

The boy looked up from his careful examination of the knife when he heard his name called.  It was Stuart Baker, a classmate, approaching the soda shop with his backpack on one shoulder and some papers in the other hand.  “Yeah?”

"Have you seen Riza?" he asked.  "She got called out of class and asked me to pick up the assignments for her.  She said to drop them off to her here."

"Called out of class?  What for?"

Stuart shrugged.  "I don't know.  She seemed surprised too, but all she said to me was to get the homework.  You want to take it?"

Roy nodded.  "I hope nothing happened."

"Is there something the matter?" Andrews asked.

"My master's daughter got called out of school.  I'm worried something might be wrong with him."

Andrews gestured towards the soda shop.  "You should call to make sure everyone is alright."  He threw his coat into the car's front seat and loosened his tie, seeming ready to assume charge of the whole situation.  "I'm sure the clerk has access to a telephone."

"But my master doesn't.  He doesn't like telephones."  Roy stuffed the knife box into his pocket and held out his hand to shake the man's.  "I'm sorry, but I must get back to the house and see if my master is alright.  Excuse me."

"Of course."  Andrews held onto Roy’s hand for a moment and looked determined.  "And I'll see what I can do on this end.  What's the young lady's name?"

“Um,” Roy didn’t know what Andrews was considering but he needed to hurry home.  “Her name is Riza.  Blond, about so high, brown eyes.” 

“I’ll ask around, you get going.”  Andrews smiled confidently and let go of Roy’s hand.

 

 

* * *

 

“Master!”

Berthold Hawkeye rolled out of his small study on the wheeled chair he liked to use.  “Roy?”

The boy sank against the wall to catch his breath. 

“You’re here!” he gasped between gulps of air.  “I ran all the way from town.  When I heard Riza’d been called out of class, I thought something had happened to you.”

“Called out of class?” 

Roy heard the fear in the older man’s question and felt suddenly chilled despite his exertion. 

“When?”  Hawkeye asked quickly. 

"Wait, you think something happened to her?"  Roy stammered.  “What could have happened to her at school?”

Hawkeye rolled back to his desk and started through his drawers, looking for something. “It’s very possible.”  He frowned and looked sideways up at the boy.  “Did you see any strangers in town today?”

Roy’s startled expression seemed enough confirmation for the man.

“Who were they?”  His master’s voice sounded harsher than he had ever heard it; cold and dangerous. 

“I only saw one,”  Roy answered truthfully.  “A recruiter.  He gave me some information on a new school for alchemy that they are setting up.”

Hawkeye’s gaze was as icy as his tone.  “Was he military?” 

“I don’t think so, master.  At least this fellow didn’t strike me as military.  He was pretty easy going, not like any of the soldiers we’ve run into before, and he was rich.”

Hawkeye found what he was looking for and stood, pushing back the chair.  The air in the small study seemed to darken and the sullen master that Roy had grown to know solidified before his eyes.  His world-weary melancholy had vanished.  Berthold Hawkeye looked angry, and dangerous, his pale eyes lit by a desperate fire.  This was a side of him the boy hadn’t even imagined existed.

“We’re going to the school to find out what’s going on,” the man growled.  “Come on.”

 

 

* * *

 

Leaving the Hawkeye home involved a few more steps than just locking the door.  There seemed to be wards and booby traps of both alchemical and mechanical design hidden all over the property that Roy had never realized were there.  Some were deadly enough to kill someone.  Master Hawkeye set them using chemical alchemy as he grimly ushered his apprentice to the only vehicle the family owned; an old motorcycle. 

“Ride behind me,” the master said, after he’d kicked the machine to life.  He handed Roy an old helmet and the boy caught a glimpse of red ink; Hawkeye seemed to have hastily scribbled an array on his palm.  Roy hesitated, not knowing what his master might be planning, but when the man jerked his head tersely urging him to get on the bike he climbed up for the short ride into Halimar. 

As it turned out, Riza had already been found by the time the two of them got to town.  She stood between the town’s constable and Hyner Andrews as the recruiter smiled and shook the official’s hand.  Riza looked decidedly unhappy; embarrassed or angry, Roy couldn’t tell which, and when her father came into view she slipped away from the two men and came toward his motorcycle. 

“Ah!  Everything is alright, nothing but a prank, it seems,” Andrews called as Hawkeye brought his bike to a stop.  Roy jumped off but when Riza came up to them, she just stood at her father’s side looking down.

“What happened?” the master asked in a soft tone that only his child and apprentice recognized was dangerously steely.  The constable waved good-naturedly as if to assure them.

“Oh, Mr. Hawkeye, good of you to come, but you probably didn’t have to.  Seems there were a couple of fellows doing some mischief and had your daughter called out of class.  They kept her for a while, but she’s not hurt and there doesn’t seem to be any harm done.  Even so, we have the boys in custody and will press charges if you or she wants us to.” 

After worrying that something had happened to his master, and then worrying that something might have befallen his friend, Roy’s temper flared.

“Are you kidding me?!” he demanded.  “That’s kidnapping!  Who were these guys?  Are they from this school?  Are you seriously telling me there’s any question?  Of course we’re going to charge them!”

A quiet hand grasped his forearm, checking him.  Berthold Hawkeye kept his gaze lowered so that only Roy could see the fury that burned in his pale blue eyes.  “No,” he said carefully, “There’s no need for prosecution.  I’m sure those boys are aware of what they did and it won’t happen again.”  Hawkeye’s grip on his arm was firm, but from it Roy could feel how tightly controlled his master was keeping himself.  It was like a dash of cold water in his face. 

Throughout the interchange, Riza had not moved.  Her eyes were also downcast but she seemed more watchful and wary than angry.  Much more was going on here than a simple prank or kidnapping, but the only one who didn’t understand what that was, apparently, was Roy. 

“Well!”  Hyner Andrews broke the awkward silence with a broad smile.  “I was hoping this could be resolved amicably and it seems it has.”  He approached Hawkeye with his hand outstretched.  “When Mr. Mustang told me something was amiss, I hurried over to the school to see what I could do to help.”  Though the younger man spoke warmly, Hawkeye was unmoved and kept his grip tight on Roy’s arm as Andrews spoke.  “I work at a school and thought I’d see what was up.  It seemed odd to me that they would allow a child to be dismissed without even a phone call from the parent.  There definitely were some breakdowns in the protocols.  You’ll be pleased to know I gave them a piece of my mind.  I doubt anything like this will happen again.”

At that, Hawkeye did look up.  Andrew’s smile faltered for a moment.  Some unspoken communication seemed to pass between the two men and it was the younger one who seemed the more shaken by it.  Roy opened his mouth to speak, but a quick squeeze from his master stopped him. 

“Thank you for all your help.”  Hawkeye at last released his apprentice’s arm and held his hand out for Andrews to shake.  “It was very kind of you to step in.  Who did you say you were?”

“Hyner Andrews, at your service.  I’m a school administrator in Central, so I thought I might be useful in this case.”  He flicked a glance at Roy.

“You were speaking to my pupil.”  Hawkeye stated it as if daring Andrews to deny the fact.

“Here now, Master Hawkeye,” the constable broke in.  “He’s been a help to us today.  Why don’t you take Miss Riza home and let us handle this?  She’s a brave girl, but I’ll bet this situation scared her.  She could use a little comforting, don’t you think?”

Hawkeye hesitated for a moment, as if analyzing his options and then let out a breath.  “Yeah,” he sighed.  “Come on, Riza,” he patted the seat in front of him, indicating she should climb onto the motorcycle.  “I’ll want to talk to you when you get home, Roy,” he said, settling his daughter possessively before him.  Riza, who had been stoic until that point, held tight to the arm her father had wrapped around her waist.  The older man bent and spoke a soft word in her ear.  Reluctantly, she released him so that he could start the bike and drive away.  It was the most affection Roy had seen pass between them since he’d come to Halimar. 

 


End file.
